On the frontline
by Scarlet Secret
Summary: Drabbles written for the Downton ficathon on Livejournal - various pairings  most gen and all with series 2 spoilers.
1. Sybil and Thomas

A/N: Written for the comment ficathon on the livejournal.

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><p><strong>Thomas and Sybil, newfound lonesome:<strong>

After getting Carson settled, but before her Mother could instruct someone to lock the door for the night and prevent any of her children from scattering, Sybil slipped out of the house and walked back down to the hospital. She couldn't say she felt more at _home_ there, but she felt a certain peace come upon her in the havoc of always having something to do, a feeling she had certainly never experienced before.

"Good evenin' m'lady."

The quiet voice comes out of nowhere and for a moment she's sure it's Tom and her insides freeze. She's not in the mood to think about _that_ at the moment – she doesn't know if she ever will be – but when she spins around, careful not to exclaim aloud and disturb the patients, she comes face to face with Thomas instead. She breathes a sigh of relief and manages a small smile. She never had much to do with him before, and quite frankly had heard some terrible things from Gwen before she left – she makes a mental note to write to Gwen, she's been rather lapse with her letter writing lately but it is another gentile pastime that seems silly now – but Thomas has proved himself rather indispensible already.

"I've already told you Thomas, it should be Nurse Crawley now."

He smiles slightly, it's more of a smirk but she doesn't think it's unfriendly so allows it to go without comment.

"Maybe in another wars time it'll be 'Sybil'?"

She smiles back and follows him away from the patients into the little room that still served at Dr. Clarkson's office despite the space available in the hospital becoming lessened every single day. Without the slightest change to his facial expression, although given the looks he'd been given Dr. Clarkson earlier Sybil suspected that he was rather pleased with himself, Thomas sat in the Doctor's chair and using only one hand reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a packet of cigarettes.

"You don't mind do you?"

She settled herself opposite him, unsure why she was still bothering to be here. She'd checked on the hospital, which had been her excuse for coming down in the first place, and it had not burnt down in the few hours she had been away, so why on earth wasn't she heading back to the house before whomever her Mother entrusted with the keys for the night – Mrs Hughes she expected, although a dark part of her worried about the reliance her Mama was exhibiting upon O'Brien lately – locked the doors.

If she stayed now she'd have to rouse the household to get to her bed. "Not at all."

By the time she replied he'd already started smoking. His face held for her the same sort of story she had seen on the faces of every man she'd treated. Horrors she couldn't know, didn't _want_ to know really, despite the morbid curiosity that always bubbled within her when the opportunity arose to ask someone; she wondered how Thomas would react to the questions. Isobel had told her early on that she must never ask, but perhaps Thomas, in this silent moment between them, would oblige her and tell her his nightmares?

"Thom-"

"Lieutenant Courtenay needs some attention."

She's out of her seat before he finishes.

"Do his bandages need changing? I told Nurse Carter that she hadn't done them properly."

"They're fine. I didn't mean them. I don't think 'e's coping with his injuries m-"

He managed a slight, rueful smile at the near-slip and looked contemplative. Sybil doesn't think she's ever seen a man look so serious and scared; the emotion looks more real to her than any she has ever seen before, even in last two years of this nightmare. Her Papa's righteous bluster, Tom's impassioned declaration and even the quiet ghosts that Cousin Matthew sees everywhere don't seem as real as this moment in which Thomas looked as though he might cry and she thought he was controlling himself for his own benefit rather than for hers.

It's the first time a man of her acquaintance, and somehow the officers she sees everyday don't seem to count as _men_ – not like that anyway – has not put her feelings first.

"I can speak to him if you like?"

"No…I can do that. I don't know 'ow much talking'll do 'im good, but I can do that."

Sybil retook her seat and nodded in understanding. Sometimes talking was all one could do for the patients and as far as she was aware it was quite literally all that could be done for the Lieutenant. His eyesight would never improve but there was some small comfort in the thought that the state of his physical health wouldn't get any _worse_. And there was always the possibility, however slight, that he _might_ see again, but there was no need to dangle that in front of him when it was so unlikely. She struck upon an idea.

"Maybe we can help him to move around? Teach him how to walk with a stick. Having something to focus on might make him feel a little better. I know it's done that for me."

He didn't respond but the incline of his head moved in such a way that Sybil thought her idea had been acknowledged. Thomas turned in the chair towards the window – it was a poor view really, just the black sky beyond – and Sybil followed his gaze, feeling suddenly terribly alone in this hospital full of men who could see things she couldn't. Discomfort washed over her and once again she vacated her seat, awkwardness invading her as it hadn't done before; something had changed in the air and she didn't quite know what to make of it.

"I should go before Mama has me locked out. Goodnight Thomas."

He stood up straight. Ever the soldier, ever the footman.

"Goodnight Nurse Crawley."


	2. Thomas and O'Brien

A/N: Written for the comment ficathon on the livejournal.

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><p><strong>Thomas &amp; O'Brien - after Lt. Courtenay's suicide:<strong>

She comes out for a cigarette when he calls and he knew she would because her nicotine habit is more pronounced than even his – which they tell themselves – and she's _always_ been there to help him, like the phantom of the big sister he never had.

He draws deeply on his own cigarette, not quite meeting her eye but looking at her more than he's looked at anyone else all day.

"We lost another one today. A patient that is."

He tossed away the stub and sat down on their bench, bringing one hand up to rub his face, resisting the urge to cry again. Although he knows O'Brien wouldn't mind, he would. And it might make her think she can cry around him and the thought of that makes his blood chill.

"I keep losing 'em."

He doesn't mean patients. He wonders if she knows this – probably, she knows everything else.

"S'funny. I kept losing brothers."

In her pocket another letter crunches and will be safely put away later. Archie last year was too shell-shocked and didn't stand a chance. George is back now with a leg wound, he's got a wife and three kids so maybe he'll get clemency? He's recovering somewhere else, not here, never here, the O'Brien's are farmers and will never be officers, but he's a family man with a blighty – there's hope for him. She hasn't lost him yet.

"But I always was a lucky bugger, I seem to be gatherin' 'em back now."

She hands him another cigarette, uses the match to light his, hers and then swiftly burn off a loose thread on his cuff.

"Scruffy sod."

"Ta."

They sat in silence after that, but it was companionable. More than that really, but there was no need to say it.


	3. O'Brien and Vera

A/N: Written for the comment ficathon on the livejournal.

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><p><strong>O'Brien and Vera's first meeting:<strong>

When Mr Bates burst out of Mrs Hughes sitting room, looking frankly rather alarming and she would have been scared had she been some daft girl like Daisy and not Sarah O'Brien, she can't help but wonder what happy circumstance has led to this. She knows his wife has reappeared, she expects the whole house knows by now the rate Ethel's telling people, and though she's suitably amused at Anna's expense, she didn't think it would make him quite this irate. She needs to meet this woman immediately.

So, making sure Mrs Hughes is still away – she is, Sarah can hear her shrill tones in the kitchen and knows she's unduly annoyed about _something_ again – she sails into the sitting room as though it's her own. The woman sat quite calmly is not at all what she had expected but somehow, _somehow_ is exactly the woman she imagines would irritate and infatuate John Bates the most.

"You're not the housekeeper. Unless Downton's so grand it has two?"

"No, I'm her ladyship's maid. Miss O'Brien."

The woman stood up and Sarah noticed the neatness of her clothes; the succinctness of her speech; the air of disdain in the voice and whilst she wasn't especially thrilled to have it levelled at her she couldn't help but like this woman on sight.

"Well Miss O'Brien, I hope you'll be good enough to spread it around the rest of the staff that Mr Bates will be leaving. With his wife."

The accompanying smile and creasing of her eyes that followed this pronouncement would have given her cause for concern…but she'd only be worrying about Bates and that wasn't exactly likely to happen. And he was leaving! Actually bloody leaving this time and there didn't seem to be much he could do about it – Sarah didn't consider herself a shrinking violet but even she didn't feel like an argument with Mrs Bates would go very favourably.

"I'll be glad to. Where are you takin' 'im?"

"What's it to you Miss O'Brien?"

"Nothin' really. S'long as it far away."

Vera's head moved ever so slightly, ostensibly in contemplative confusion but Sarah thought she had the look of one of the snakes she'd seen in London zoo on her day off. It was dangerous and she was quite amused at the thought of Mr Bates being sent away with this viperous woman.

"I take it you're not fond of him. Not like Miss Smith."

"Anna?" Sarah nearly laughed at that. "I can assure you Mrs Bates, other than 'er snifflin' for the foreseeable future the rest of us won't miss 'is presence." She knew that was a lie really but didn't much see the point of explaining the ins and outs of the last four years to someone.

"Well I am glad me taking my husband back won't be depriving you all of his hard working spirit."

Sarah grimaced slightly and reached for the teapot, pleased to feel there was still some in there and it was still warm. She poured herself a cup and took the seat where Mr Bates must have been.

"You don't mind me 'avin' the rest of this I 'ope. It'll only go to waste." Vera shook her head and retook her seat, looking significantly more awkward now that Sarah had settled herself. It seemed keeping people on their feet and unnerving them were stock in trade for Mrs Bates and Sarah made a mental note to use it in future whenever she could.

"And as for Mr Bates, Downton stood before 'e came here, it'll survive 'im beggarin' off."

Vera slid back into her seat like quicksilver and reached for her own half-drunk from cup. Her eyes never left O'Brien as she contemplated this information – taking John away from Downton had lost some of its shine but then again, the rest of them had always been the bonus rather than the prize itself. John was coming with her and it was going to hurt Miss Smith. The fact that Miss O'Brien looked completely unconcerned as she sipped her tea and poked around the small plate of biscuits Mrs Hughes had given them really wasn't important.

O'Brien looked up to meet her gaze.

"I would ask a favour though, if you don't mind?"

The corners of Vera's eyes crinkled slightly as her face tightened. Everywhere you went in the whole bloody world there was always someone wanting something.

"Go on."

"If you're goin' to upset 'im that much on a daily basis would you write to me 'ere and tell me about it."

Vera's eyes opened rather dramatically at that and she couldn't help a laugh spilling from her lips, one not nearly as controlled and sinister as the faint sign of amusement she'd displayed at Johnny earlier. O'Brien smiled too and Vera had a feeling she'd identified an ally in this house.

"I need some good news to get me through the war after all."

"Go on then. I wouldn't want you to be miserable. But do write and tell me how Miss Smith's getting on," she sipped her tea and her eyes danced as she met O'Brien's. "I feel terrible you understand, but he is my husband."

After they finished their tea Sarah slipped out of the sitting room, passing Mrs Hughes with a nod and going about her business with a new spring in her step. She encountered Anna in the servant's hall and couldn't help but smirk.

"What's the matter with you?"

"Nothin'. Where's Mr Bates?"

Anna bristled.

"With his wife for the moment. Vera. She's here."

"Vera was it?" Sarah nodded and collected up the mending she had left at the table earlier before departing. "Very friendly woman."


End file.
